


wuthering heights

by magictodestroy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Arson, Bath, Bathing, Biting, Enemies Are Lovers, FTM, Fire, Fucking, Gentle Sex, Kissing, M/M, Moor, Nature, Oral Sex, Playful Sex, Porn, Rain, Research, Sex, Storms, Tattoos, Teasing, Thunder - Freeform, dark atmosphere, look it's loosely based on wuthering heights, mentions of ging's job, pariging, pariston is just there, semblence of a plot, sex connected to nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 10:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16084724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magictodestroy/pseuds/magictodestroy
Summary: Ging and Pariston spend some time in an old cottage on a moor."A tree knocked at the window, branches crashing wildly against each other. The leaves were being stripped by the wind. Lightning lit the moor beyond the house and the fence. It was empty, but with boulders heaving, leaving dark shadows that resembled elongated people.Ging lifted Pariston’s face to kiss his lips. They kissed, each kiss soft and hovering on the edge of being unreal.Pariston cradled Ging in his arms, and the rain kept falling. Ging’s lips moved, and he couldn’t hear what he said. The wind kept screaming.--They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. That was a problem with them being alone. There were other problems too, but they were darker, and Pariston didn’t want to think about them."





	wuthering heights

Skin against skin, they rolled together. Ging’s body lithe and warm, Pariston’s weaker, cooler. Ging’s teeth against Pariston’s nipple, skimming, teasing, biting lightly. Pariston’s hands in Ging’s hair.

The sky lit up purple and white with a flash of lightning. Thunder shook the cottage. Ging felt for Pariston’s heartbeat. His heart was racing. Ging gripped the skin on Pariston’s shoulder. He pulled him underneath him.

Pariston reached up with aching hands to pull Ging’s shirt off. It was the final piece of clothing, and Ging fell on top of Pariston naked.

Ging rolled over onto his back, and Pariston searched Ging’s body with long fingers. He was hot, and his golden skin was damp with sweat. Pariston slid his fingers between Ging’s legs. He was hot and wet.'

Ging caught at Pariston’s hair and dragged him into a biting kiss. He laughed at Pariston when he whined. He arched himself into Pariston’s arms and kissed his neck, biting to bruise.

A tree knocked at the window, branches crashing wildly against each other. The leaves were being stripped by the wind. Lightning lit the moor beyond the house and the fence. It was empty, but with boulders heaving, leaving dark shadows that resembled elongated people.

Ging sat up, body heaving. He pressed his body against Pariston’s face, and Pariston found his nipple with searching lips. He sucked on it as he felt Ging’s chest over. Lightning flashed, reaching into the dark room. Ging’s face was lit for a second, half blinding white, half shadow. Ging rolled his neck. He pressed his body harder against Pariston, and then fell backwards onto the pillows.

Pariston drew Ging’s legs up with one arm and cradled him. He kissed Ging’s knees and worked his way down his legs, kissing his thighs until he was kissing against his hips. Ging shut his eyes and spread his legs, and Pariston kissed between them.

Thunder clapped. Ging laughed. He looped one leg behind Pariston’s head, drawing him closer. Pariston licked Ging. He squeezed his ass, and used his other hand to tease Ging’s nipples. Ging rubbed frantically against Pariston’s face. His body lifted again and again from the untidy bed.

Pariston held Ging’s hip more firmly. He eased him into a rhythm, and they worked together until Ging’s body shuddered from toes to head and he whispered out, ‘fuck.’  
Pariston brushed his face against Ging’s thigh. He kissed his skin and sat up, rubbing his neck.

Ging lay on his back, head turned to stare out the window. He reached for Pariston’s hand, and Pariston took it. He kissed Ging’s hand. He kissed each fingertip, each knuckle, he turned Ging’s hand and kissed his palm and then his wrist.

Ging shoved his foot against Pariston’s shoulder. Pariston kissed that too, and Ging laughed at him.

‘Again.’

So Pariston lay back down and hauled Ging over his face. Ging clutched the windowsill for balance and thrust his hips in rhythm. Pariston hummed as he worked, but the sound was lost underneath the screaming wind and the tree trying to break through the window.

The land was screaming too, and the rocks hurtled with the wind and the rain. Or maybe they didn’t, and they just seemed to as Ging slid up and down, eyes half shut, brain foggy with pleasure.

He came again, forgetting himself and calling out Pariston’s name, soft and low and three times.

‘Pariston. Pariston, Paris.’

He fell off Pariston and rolled a sheet around himself. He shivered and slid his hand down to touch himself, but Pariston was faster. He lay on top of Ging and let Ging rock against his fingers. Ging came again quietly, moan disappearing into a pillow.

Pariston kissed the back of his neck. ‘Ging...’

He pulled Ging’s hips up and slid his cock into him.

‘Ah,’ Ging said. He rolled his hips slowly.

Pariston gripped Ging’s hips tightly. He started to fuck him gently. He concentrated on the feeling of it. The heat, the pleasure that jolted through his body. The sting of Ging’s aura brushing into his.

He pulled out and turned Ging over onto his back so he could see his face. He slid back into him and fucked him faster. Ging wrapped his legs around Pariston’s waist. Pariston pushed harder against Ging. He sucked on his earlobe and nipped his neck.

Ging smiled up at him, hazel eyes alight. He drew his hand over Pariston’s neck and through his hair.

‘Paris,’ he whispered.

‘Ging.’ Pariston kissed him with trembling lips.

Rain hit the window at a slant. It blurred the trees and the moor and everything real and other. The sound was loud and the tin roof amplified it. They were floating in an angry darkness, quivering in each other’s arms, the only life on the surface of the planet.

Pariston bent to kiss Ging’s chest. He covered it with soft kisses, becoming harder as the wind picked up. He sucked both Ging’s nipples and then buried his face in Ging’s neck and bit the crook of it.

‘Paris.’ Ging’s hands reached over his back. They gripped and massaged.

Pariston fucked Ging harder, watching Ging’s face. Ging’s eyes widened and narrowed. His lips moved, making unspoken words. His grip on Pariston’s waist loosened, and he let one leg down so he could press up with it off the bed.

He gazed up into Pariston’s eyes. Pariston whispered his name, soft, soundless underneath the storm, ‘Ging.’

Pariston came deep inside Ging. His body heaved, and he collapsed on Ging, out of breath, heart going too fast. Ging pressed his face to Pariston’s hot skin and kissed him.  
‘Paris. Paris,’ he murmured.

Pariston lay still, catching his breath, finding his place through the warmth of Ging’s skin, the saltiness on his lips, the soft, tangled sheets.

Ging lifted Pariston’s face to kiss his lips. They kissed, each kiss soft and hovering on the edge of being unreal.

Pariston cradled Ging in his arms, and the rain kept falling. Ging’s lips moved, and he couldn’t hear what he said. The wind kept screaming.

Ging tugged away, and Pariston let go. He watched Ging tiptoe over the cold floorboards to the bathroom. Ging came hurrying back after he’d peed. He shoved into the bed and pushed his cold feet against Pariston’s skin.

Pariston yelped, and Ging laughed wickedly. He let Pariston hold him again. Pariston kissed him. He watched Ging until he fell asleep.  
   
 

 

   
When Ging woke in the morning, Pariston was still asleep. The storm had settled some. It was still raining, but the tree shook more gently in the wind. Ging watched it, sucking on his knuckle. He drifted back into sleep.

Ging woke a second time to Pariston getting up carefully. Ging flipped over and slid into the warm spot where Pariston had been lying.

‘Morning,’ Pariston said fondly.

Ging nodded. ‘Morning.’ He pulled a pillow into his arms and held it close.

Pariston came back as quickly as he could and replaced the pillow in Ging’s arms. He held Ging close to him and kissed his lips and his eyes.

‘You are the most beautiful boy in the world,’ he whispered.

Ging smiled at him and pulled gently on Pariston’s cheek. ‘Paris.’ He tiptoed fingers over Pariston’s leg.

Pariston kissed him again.

In this moment, they could be normal. With the wind blowing against the eaves and the rain coming down, they were nothing but normal people basking in the comfort of a slow, grey morning. They had no responsibilities beyond their boring jobs and keeping the mortgage paid.

Ging traced Pariston’s face.

‘It was nice,’ he said.

‘Yeah?’ Pariston kissed Ging’s hand.

‘Yeah.’ Ging smiled softly. His impossibly long lashes fluttered. ‘I’m hungry.’

‘Okay.’

They got up and went into the stone kitchen. Ging sat at the table, wrapped in a plaid robe. He ate rice porridge, and Pariston sat across from him and ate toast.  
Ging touched Pariston’s foot underneath the table with his foot, kept warm in a wool sock.

‘What?’ Pariston said.

‘The tide’s gonna be too high today,’ Ging said. ‘I won’t be able to get down to the coast and look at those caves.’

Pariston nodded. ‘I’m not going anywhere today.’

Ging nodded and blew on his coffee. ‘Hmm.’

Ging took his coffee into the small study to go over his notes and the artefacts he’d collected. Pariston sat on a red velvet chair, worn on all the edges, and watched the rain coming down. The moor looked calm and ordinary. Not wildly moving as it had in the storm last night.

Ging looked in place here, orange robe falling off one shoulder, unbrushed hair a mess, one finger hooked thoughtlessly in his mouth as he traced over runes.

Pariston closed his eyes. He breathed in the scent of the coffee. He watched a spider crawl against the beams on the old ceiling. He listened to Ging mumbling to himself under his breath.

It was quiet.

These were moments he’d never had with anyone else. Ging was infatuating. He was mesmerising, bewitching. He could steal every part of Pariston without even trying.  
Ging licked his thumb and turned a page. He wrote a question mark in the margins.

‘Ging,’ Pariston murmured, but Ging didn’t look up.

Pariston set his empty coffee cup on the stone windowsill and leaned forward, chin in his hand. The rain kept coming down.

Ging stood after some hours. He stretched and touched Pariston’s shoulder. Pariston looked up from the book he was reading.

‘Dinner?’

‘Uh huh.’

They made a simple dinner of beef, potatoes, and carrots and ate it with tea and berries. Ging sat on the same bench as Pariston at the wooden table and rested his head on his shoulder. He watched the pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling swing together in a draft.

‘It’s comfortable here,’ Ging said.

‘Mm.’ Pariston closed his eyes.

The wind was picking up again. The house creaked with it. It was so old and connected to the earth it sat on that it was almost a living thing. It moaned, unsettled by the storm.

‘This is the kind of place that you see ghosts,’ Pariston said.

Ging kissed Pariston’s cheek. ‘You always see ghosts. I’m gonna make a bath.’

Pariston gathered the used dishes from the table and put them in the old farm sink. He washed them as Ging set about drawing a bath, adding enough boiling water that it would be comfortable.

Pariston joined Ging when he had washed the dishes and put away the uneaten food. He undressed slowly and got into the claw foot cast iron tub. Ging left the door open so the heat from the wood stove in the kitchen would keep them warm. He got in beside Pariston and splashed water up over Pariston’s body gently.

Pariston caught Ging’s chin with his hand and kissed his mouth. Ging kissed back, opening his mouth for Pariston’s tongue. He held his hand firmly on Pariston’s shoulder.

They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. That was a problem with them being alone. There were other problems too, but they were darker, and Pariston didn’t want to think about them.

Ging turned his back on Pariston, and Pariston drew water up over Ging’s back. The water fell down Ging’s back, leaving wet patches, and dry patches. It made little rivers. Ging’s skin gleamed underneath the water.

Pariston took a cloth and wet it with water and soap. He drew it slowly over Ging’s back. It left soap bubbles in it’s wake, soft, shimmering. They broke underneath Pariston’s fingers. Ging looked over his shoulder, eyes lowered. Pariston kissed his shoulder where the soap hadn’t reached.

Ging looked away again.

Pariston drew the cloth up over Ging’s neck. The bubbles were so fairy like, pink, purple, and blue, all dancing a trail across Ging’s honey brown skin. The steam from the bath reached up, making the air hazy around them both.

‘Ging.’ Pariston kissed the back of Ging’s head.

Ging nodded. ‘I know.’

Pariston kept washing Ging. He finished his back and turned Ging around to wash his chest and arms. He washed over Ging’s stomach. He lifted Ging out of the water to wash his legs.

Ging let him, breathing slowly. He’d stop Pariston occasionally to kiss his lips so softly. Pariston kissed him, breath almost stilled.

This is what Ging did to him. He was a magical creature who cast a spell you could never counter. He was a woodland fairy with secrets and shining hazel eyes the colour of all your lost dreams.

‘What are you thinking of Pariston?’ Ging searched Pariston’s face, cradling Pariston’s cheek in his small hand.

‘I’m thinking of how you’re a demon's child,’ Pariston whispered. ‘A changeling. A wicked sprite with no heart.’

A grin broke over Ging’s face, and he laughed. ‘Did it take you that long to figure me out?’

Pariston shook his head. ‘I just didn’t want to believe it before.’

Ging’s grin widened. ‘But now you’re trapped here where I’ve lured you all alone.’

‘Yes.’

‘And there’s no one for miles and miles, and we’re all alone.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re trapped with a wicked creature with no soul and no heart.’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you scared?’

‘I’m always scared of you.’

Ging kissed Pariston again. ‘I’m glad.’

Pariston drew Ging up into his arms. He kissed him, cradling his head in his hand. He loved how wickedly Ging’s eyes shone. How his smile lit up his whole face. How he raced his hand over Pariston’s back. How he whispered, ‘I’ve got you now.’

Pariston dipped Ging backwards into the water to rinse him off. Ging let Pariston lie him in the water so that only his face was showing. He kept his eyes closed.

Pariston sat Ging back up and massaged shampoo into his hair. He worked it through Ging’s thick hair.

‘And now you’re my captive, and you must do my bidding,’ Ging said. ‘I don’t even need to wash myself. I have you to do that.’

‘Yes, master.’

Ging laughed. ‘Good.’

Pariston washed Ging’s hair out. He turned Ging back to kiss him again.

‘I’m glad you’re pleased.’

‘I like being lazy.’ Ging leaned against the edge of the tub. ‘Now wash yourself.’

Pariston obeyed him. Ging watched, looking lazy and happy.

‘Don’t forget behind your ears,’ Ging said idly.

Pariston lifted the cloth and washed carefully behind his ears.

‘Good.’ Ging looked out the small window at the darkening sky, distracted already.

Pariston finished washing without any more commands from Ging. Ging was too busy splashing himself. He got out of the tub when he was done, and Ging followed him. Pariston wrapped Ging up in a white towel and then wrapped himself in his own towel. They went to the kitchen and sat on the small grey sofa near the wood stove.  
Ging threw another log on the fire. Flames spurted up around it. Ging kept the door open a crack so the fire would get enough air to take the new wood.

‘What are you thinking about, Paris?’ Ging nudged Pariston with his foot.

‘I’m thinking about how comfortable it is here.’

‘Hmm.’

Ging lay down on the sofa and put his head on Pariston’s lap. Pariston petted his head. He watched the fire build up around the new log. A strip of bark caught first and darkened quickly to black. Another lick of flame crept up the wood and a small piece curled back, consumed.

‘It’s not as fast as you’d think it was,’ Pariston said.

‘What?’ Ging looked up at him.

‘Fire.’

Ging laughed. ‘It’s slower, and it’s faster. You ever seen a building burn?’

‘Of course.’

‘Right,’ Ging said. ‘Of course.’ He closed his eyes.

‘The first time I saw a building burn was when I set one on fire.’

‘Mm?’ Ging’s one note hum encouraged Pariston to continue.

‘I was only six years old. I wanted to play with matches.’

Ging rubbed Pariston’s knee.

‘I was mad, I guess. At my mother. More at my father. Whatever. You know about him.’

Ging nodded.

‘So I set the hotel on fire. With whiskey from the mini bar and a box of matches.’

‘Hmm.’

‘And the whole thing went up. And they had to evacuate everyone. No one died.’

‘Mm.’

‘I think that was the biggest disappointment. I’d wanted it to be faster. But it takes awhile for things to catch. And by that time, my nanny had saved me. So I didn’t die, and that fucker didn’t die, and nobody died.’

Ging craned his head back. ‘Six, huh? Did you get in trouble?’

‘Only with my father. Oh, my mother cried. That was fun.’ Pariston smiled.

Ging looked back at the fire flickering in the stove. ‘Okay.’ He got up to shut the door and then settled down again.

Pariston petted Ging’s head and watched the fire. He didn’t speak for awhile.

The rain picked up again. It drummed on the roof of the cottage. It pelted the windows. Ging got up and pushed the sofa closer to the stove. He sat down near Pariston, head on his shoulder, hugging one knee.

Pariston looped his arm around Ging.

Ging looked up at Pariston, searching his face silently.

‘I don’t know what you want, Ging,’ Pariston said.

‘Mmm.’ Ging nuzzled Pariston’s shoulder. ‘That’s okay.’

‘Evil sprite,’ Pariston murmured.

‘Yep. Trapped on the wild moors with an evil demon. What ya gonna do about it?’

Pariston scooped Ging up, and Ging shrieked. Pariston dumped him on the sofa and fell on top of him. He tickled Ging until Ging was screaming, pushing him off, laughing, shaking, the only sound in the universe.

Ging grinned up at him when Pariston paused. He pushed at Pariston’s nose.

‘You got me.’

‘Uh huh.’ Pariston kissed his mouth. He dragged Ging close so their lips clashed, and their teeth knocked together. He pushed his tongue into Ging’s mouth.

Ging kissed back. He swayed against Pariston, hips grinding against his body. Pariston’s towel lost its grip and fell away. Ging smiled and traced his fingers over Pariston’s cock.

‘You’re naked,’ he teased.

Pariston smacked Ging’s ass. ‘And you’re a brat.’

Ging licked Pariston’s cheek, and Pariston shrieked out in displeasure.

‘Awful!’

Ging laughed. ‘Want me to blow you?’

Pariston nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

Ging ran his fingers through Pariston’s wet hair. He blew gently on his face.

‘Blew you.’

‘Brat!’ Pariston smacked his ass again.

Ging laughed, thrilled, fully unconstrained. He batted his lashes against Pariston’s cheek and then slid off the sofa. He rested his head for a moment against Pariston’s stomach. Then he bent and blew gently on Pariston’s cock.

‘Ging.’

Ging laughed up at Pariston.

‘Wicked,’ Pariston told him.

Ging slid his tongue over the tip. ‘I know.’ He popped the head into his mouth.

Pariston tangled his fingers in Ging’s hair and kept a hold of him to keep him in place.

Ging sucked carefully, hand spread out on Pariston’s thigh, the other wrapped around Pariston’s cock. He gazed up at Pariston, eyes challenging.

Pariston stroked Ging’s hair. ‘Good boy.’ He shifted, sinking lower on the sofa.

Ging lapped at the head with his tongue. ‘Like this?’ He blew on it again. ‘Just like that?’

Pariston gripped Ging’s hair tighter, making Ging yelp.

Ging grinned a second later. ‘No? Like this?’ He bent and licked carefully, agonizingly slowly.

‘I hate you, Ging,’ Pariston said.

Ging’s eyes widened. ‘Like, a lot?’ He stood up, showing off his muscular body that glinted and gleamed in the warm light of the fire. ‘You hate me so much?’

Pariston grabbed Ging and rolled him onto the sofa. Ging pulled Pariston’s face close by his hair and kissed him hard. Their teeth clashed, and Ging grabbed Pariston’s lip into a bite. He sucked on it.

Pariston seethed, but Ging didn’t let go. He stared into Pariston’s eyes and bit. Pariston pinched Ging’s ass hard. Ging released Pariston’s lip.

‘Yo, you got mad?’

‘You’re infuriating.’

‘Got anything else to say?’ Ging lay his hands on Pariston’s chest and drew them down over it.

Pariston shivered at Ging’s touch.

‘Oh, I don’t like you.’

Ging leaned up and kissed him again.

‘How much do you not like me?’

‘This much.’ Pariston sat up and pulled Ging onto his lap. He splayed Ging’s legs out on other side of his waist and dragged Ging down, hands on his waist.

Ging grunted as Pariston pushed into him. He put a hand on Pariston’s shoulder.

Pariston watched Ging. He could see his ribs move beneath his skin with each breath. Ging rolled his body, tilting his head back. Pariston kissed his neck. He left kisses across it, and over Ging’s freckled shoulders, kisses along his collarbones.

‘You’re beautiful.’ Pariston nipped Ging’s arm.

Ging pressed his hand over Pariston’s face, fingers outstretched. Pariston kissed the finger against his lips. He pulled Ging’s finger into his mouth and sucked on it.  
Ging stared, fascinated. He slid the finger out and put the next one in. Pariston sucked on that one too. He gripped Ging’s waist and thrust up into him harder.  
Ging whined and put the next finger into Pariston’s mouth. He rolled his hips.

Pariston seethed. ‘Ah, Ging.’

Ging took Pariston’s face between his hands and kissed him deeply. Pariston kissed him, breathing into each kiss, rocking, not thinking.

Ging kept his grip on Pariston’s shoulder. He lifted and fell on Pariston’s cock, feeling the sensation of it deep inside him. He leaned forward and back, concentrating on his finger in Pariston’s mouth.

‘Uh,’ he grunted, falling forward, a bit off balance.

Pariston steadied him. He squeezed Ging’s ass tightly. Ging’s chest rose and fell with each breath. Pariston traced a hand over it.

Pariston’s breath was shorter now, coming out shallow. He pulled Ging towards him by the hair into another biting kiss. Ging’s cheek grazed against Pariston’s.

Pariston lifted Ging to flip him over. He got Ging on his back on the sofa so he could fuck him more easily. Ging put his hands up over his head.

He gazed into Pariston’s dark brown eyes, pupils blown wide. Pariston’s face contorted suddenly, and Pariston came, unthinking, eyes shut closed. He fell on top of Ging, breath hot on his neck.

Ging stroked Pariston’s hair. They lay still. The rain fell. Pariston drifted in and out of sleep, and Ging watched the fire.

‘C’mon,’ Ging said suddenly, as Pariston was almost lulled into a deep sleep. ‘I need to pee, and you should go to bed.’

Pariston nodded and got up. He followed Ging to the bathroom, and they peed, one after the other, and then went to bed.

Ging lay close to Pariston, head on his shoulder, hand on his chest. He watched Pariston nodding off.

‘What happened to being my slave?’

‘You’re too fickle,’ Pariston whispered. ‘You got bored too fast.’

‘Hmm.’

Ging sucked on his knuckle. He supposed that was true. Pariston was falling fast asleep. He nudged him again.

‘Hey, Paris.’

‘Mm?’

‘I didn’t come.’

Pariston sighed. ‘Come tomorrow.’

‘You come tomorrow.’

‘I will.’ Pariston turned over and fell asleep.

Ging poked him, but there wasn’t much point. Pariston was lousy in bed when he was that tired anyway. Ging watched the clouds race over the star swept sky.  
   
   
   
Ging jumped on Pariston’s shoulders the second he’d walked out of the bathroom that morning.

‘You get me for breakfast,’ he whispered into Pariston’s ear.

It was still raining. The slight clearing from last night had given away to heavier rains, though less wind. The windows were coated with miniature rivers.

‘Okay, okay,’ Pariston said. He leaned against the wall to steady himself and then carried Ging into the bedroom and dumped him on the bed. ‘So demanding this morning.’

Because you were selfish last night.’

‘Sure, Ging.’

Pariston knelt down beside the bed and undid the ties of Ging’s bathrobe. He let the worn, flannel bathrobe fall apart and slid it down off Ging’s shoulders. Gently, he kissed the tattoo of a giant squid to the right of Ging’s navel. He traced the tattoo of a ship with many sails.

‘It’s gonna get sunk, huh?’ he said.

Ging looked down and shrugged.

Pariston traced the tattoo of the waning moon, the Taurus constellation in the sky. He kissed the runes he couldn’t read beneath Ging’s left breast.

Ging studied Pariston, eyes dark and half lidded. He sighed softly when Pariston pushed him backwards and fell, legs spreading.

Pariston went down on Ging. He used his tongue and his fingers, letting his other hand wander over Ging’s legs and up his body. He gripped Ging’s small breast in his hand and squeezed it.

Ging kicked at him and grunted happily. He rolled his hips, and his breath became shorter. Pariston rested his hand over Ging’s heart and kept it there until he’d come. Ging sat up, grinning.

‘Should have done that last night.’

Pariston hummed in agreement and kissed Ging’s navel.

Ging sank off the bed into Pariston’s arms. He kissed Pariston’s lips. Pariston held him.

Ging kissed him again. ‘I’m cold.’


End file.
